


This Ain't A Red Lobster (The Speed-Dating Misadventures of One Timothy Gunn)

by Aj (aj2245)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, Moving On, Romance, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-19
Updated: 2008-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj2245/pseuds/Aj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim gets back on the dating horse in a rather unique way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Ain't A Red Lobster (The Speed-Dating Misadventures of One Timothy Gunn)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope Shayheyred enjoys the story! It was a challenge for me, and I hope this is a good present for her.
> 
> Written for Shayheyred

 

 

"Tim."

Heidi was smiling at him. That smile. The pitying, understanding, sympathetic one that melted his heart even as it annoyed. Heidi was just so sweet... And then he noticed what she was holding.

"Heidi. No."

Hadn't he thrown that out? God save him from well-meaning friends-slash-bosses.

"Tim..." she kept the smile firmly in place and edged forward, waving the cream invitation for emphasis. "Yes. It's a good idea."

And it probably was. Tim sighed, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been months since his last date, and if he was completely honest with himself, that hadn't really counted. Most of the night had been taken up with a discussion of pastels versus jewel tones, and while he might be gay and in the fashion industry, he was only _so_ gay.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

Heidi, now leaning on his shoulder, shook her head. "It's a good stepping stone, Tim."

He sighed again and sent her his best pout. "But speed dating?"

She grinned and tucked the invitation into his hand. "A toe in the wide waters of opportunity. Something silly to open the door."

He nodded and had to chuckle at her pleased little squeal and bounce. He knew she was just trying to help. Still.

"You married people. All stupidly giddy and trying to foist your dismal lives on us singles."

Completely unoffended, Heidi just leaned in and kissed his forehead. "It will be fine."

*

Luckily, the 'Reality Television Stars Speed Dating Night of Revelry FOR MEN' - oh, _honestly_ \- was held uptown and without cameras. He'd missed that particular detail on the first read-through, but after Heidi's firm, metaphorical boot in the rear he'd read it through a little closer. The whole thing actually looked legitimate.

A nice, casual evening with a select group of gentleman who shared his particular... issue. Namely, they had a portion of their lives splashed all over the American and international television stage. On the whole, it was a fairly good idea.

Ah, well, Tim decided, adjusting his collar and running a hand down his sport coat to correct the line. Even if those tinhats on the internet found out about tonight's event, it would only be good publicity. They'd probably _really_ love it when he blamed Heidi.

Chuckling slightly to cover his nerves, Tim walked into the hotel's roped-off dining venue and smiled at the mousy looking woman - oh, that color and drape did _not_ work with her facial structure - sitting at the intake desk with a clipboard and an overly-bright smile.

"Hello," he said, offering a hand. "I'm Tim Gunn."

"Oh, hello, sir." The woman straightened and took his hand. The pleased recognition was plain, but so was the professionalism. One thing he did love about New York's service industry was their generally blase nature when it came to celebrity. LA was similar, but all that dry air was hell on his skin. "It's really lovely to meet you."

"I am here for the registration portion of the evening." He did a little presentation gesture, hoping for a genuine smile. He received it, along with a short laugh.

"Well, Mr. Gunn, we were thrilled when we received your RSVP. You've been pre-registered for everything, but we do need you to sign here," she presented her clipboard and pointed to the correct area, "and then we'll go over the rules."

He signed.

"Excellent!" The young woman waved at someone behind a partition. A man wearing a similar uniform stepped out. "Marcus, Mr. Gunn has been chosen as one of the stationary guests. If you'll show him to table six and explain the rules?"

"Of course, Ms. Davison. This way, Mr. Gunn."

"Goodnight, Ms. Davison," Tim nodded.

The woman gave him a little wave, still smiling. "Enjoy, yourself, Mr. Gunn. And remember, love comes to those who look!"

Quickly and efficiently, he was seated at a small two-person table along the back wall, and presented with a small notepad and pencil. The tables were separated with strategically placed ferns, but Tim waved at his neighbor politely before focusing on his escort. After all, it was _always_ a good idea to keep on Mr. Cowell's good side.

"Here you are, Mr. Gunn," said Marcus, sliding him a discreet drink menu. "Now, as Ms. Davison said, you've been assigned as a stationary guest. This means that when the bell rings, others will rotate around to you. You don't have to move. Each `date' is eight minutes long, with two minutes for table changes, and you have that time to chat and get to know each other. The purpose is to feel the other person out and see if you would like to take the relationship further in another venue. You may write the name of those you like down on your pad and speak to Ms. Davison at the end of the night for contact information."

"That seems very clear and concise." Tim eyed the menu and decided that, all things considered, keeping a clear head would be the best decision. Right, soda water with lime. "What if you do not wish to have your information forwarded?"

Marcus smiled. "You may also turn in a separate list to Ms. Davison."

"Ah, excellent. And we will be starting soon?"

The gentleman nodded and pointed at the front of the dining area where Ms. Davison was chatting with one of the waitresses. "You are one of our last guests to arrive. She should be ringing the bell in about ten minutes to get everything going. I'll send the waiter over to take your order."

"That sounds excellent," Tim gave Marcus a nod. "You have a good night, Marcus."

"You too, Mr. Gunn." Marcus gave a quick bow at the waist and a mischievous quirk of an eyebrow. "And good luck."

*

_Bell 1_

"I'm Bret Michaels, and you're Tim Gunn."

Tim blinked at the headband. He had no idea men wore those anymore. Although, to be fair, he hadn't known too many men who had _ever_ worn those. It took him a moment to notice the offered hand.

"Hello, nice to meet you. Please have a seat."

"I love your show, by the way. Fashion _kicks ass_." Bret flipped the offered chair around to straddle, and tossed his hair over one shoulder.

Tim bit back the desire to sigh. Oh, lovely. One of _those_.

"Considering it's my life's work, it would be silly of me to disagree. So, have you ever had a designer?" One good thing about the endless rounds of cocktail parties he'd been to was that his ability to make small talk had been finely honed. Openings like that helped immensely.

Especially with men like Bret.

"You can tell?" Bret shot him an impressed look. "It's some guy my manager introduced me to. Apparently, I'm his muse or something."

"Well, that's rather flattering." Tim tilted his head and put on his listening face. Karma willing, he could get through the next six minutes unscathed. "Is that shirt his work?"

Bret preened. There was no other way to put it. The throwing back of the shoulders and extra hair toss clinched it. _Good word._

"It is. Honestly, though. I'm a huge fan of your show. Been watching since the first season."

"Well, thank you. I'll admit to being a bit surprised that you're here, considering the nature of your show."

The other man shrugged and took a long sip of his drink, taking care to keep eye contact. It was entirely possible he thought it made him look enticing. Bret sent him a theoretically dazzling smile when he finally set the glass down.

"Publicity and showmanship. You know the trade. Besides, why limit the playing field?"

"Mmm, quite." Absently, Tim jotted Bret's name in his notebook.

The silence stretched deep and wide between them.

"So, you and Andrae?" Brett raised an eyebrow, then waggled it. "Where is he, anyway?"

Tim just smiled flatly and sipped his drink.

*

_Bell 2_

"So."

"So."

Tim took a sip of his drink and tried not to let his gaze slide, awkwardly, to another table.

Across the table, Clinton did the same.

Around them, the quiet buzz of conversation was punctuated by an occasional exclamation.

"I really meant to call-"

"I'm sorry-"

They both stopped and stared.

The laughter was loud and mutual.

Clinton recovered first, grinning widely. "So, jewel tones this season?"

"I don't know, pastels are still pretty relevant."

*

_Bell 3_

"-and then he went on _tour_." The sentence was punctuated by a rather foreboding sniffle.

"Oh, David, I'm so sorry." Tim gave the younger man a comforting pat on the shoulder and offered up his handkerchief.

"I mean, I know that it had to happen some time, right?" David - Tim was sure that's what he'd mumbled out when he'd slumped into the other chair - went back to slowly decimating a napkin, tiny strip by tiny strip. "It was part of the contract. Separate tours and CDs. But. You know."

"Of course. You always think it's going to last forever. Especially when you're young."

And that was, apparently, the exact wrong thing to say. A mutinous glare, on par with ones his nephews gave him when he mixed up characters on that cartoon they liked, settled on young David's face. Tim did his best not to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose. Honestly, he was here to meet men, not play relationship counselor.

He had a sudden and deep urge to send Heidi a gourmet fruit basket. A large one.

"David, I was _not_ implying that you were too young-"

"Everyone says I am!" David's shoulders slumped mournfully. "I'm not too young to know when I'm in love!"

"I would never imply that." Tim kept his voice calming, casting quick looks around at the nearby tables. Luckily, everyone else seemed involved with their conversations. Except Mr. Cowell, but he'd been young David's companion earlier and just shot Tim an eyeroll before going back to verbally eviscerating a small black man wearing a large clock. "I was just trying to make the point that everything seems and feels immediate at your age because there's so much for you to experience. I don't know your Mr. Cook personally-"

"His name is David too," the other man almost whispered into the nest he'd made of his napkin.

"I don't know your David," Tim continued. "But if he feels half as deeply about your separation as you do, it might be worth it to give him a call."

"Really?" The hopeful look David shot him was almost painful. God, to be that young again.

"If nothing else, you'll know. You did say you were friends first." Tim patted his arm again, encouraging.

"Yeah." David nodded before giving him a tentative smile. "Thank you for listening, Tim. I'm sorry about our date."

"No worries, David. We are where we're supposed to be."

*

_Bell 4_

"And then! Girl told me that she wanted a _record deal_. Dat girl crazy, roit?"

Tim tilted his head sideways and tapped his cheek with his index finger. "Mmm. That is a worrying development, Mr. Flav."

The smaller man threw himself backwards, rather precariously, in his chair. His laughter was riotous and carefree and his teeth glittered in the low light cast by the candle on the table. It wasn't exactly fetching, but it seemed sincere.

"See, I like you, Gunn-man! You got your head on straight. All the other boyz I been talkin' to all night been askin' me questions about my bi'ness and starin' at me funny. You got class and stuff."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Flav. Were you able to resolve the situation?"

"You call me Flavor, Gunn-man. You my boy." Flavor raised his fist and waited a few extra seconds for Tim to catch on. Tim felt somewhat conspicuous about bumping fists back, but Flavor seemed not to notice. The man was charming in his own strange way.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Flavor. It's been an interesting few minutes."

"Yeah, what up with that lady with the bell? I know we supposed to mingle all friendly-like, but woman's startin' ta annoy me."

Tim paused and reran the entire previous conversation. Oh, dear.

"Flavor, you do know that this is a speed dating event?"

"Yeah, afta this meet-n-greet, there's some boyz comin' to meet other boyz. Ain't my thing, but more honeys for us, right?" Flavor's expression was so guileless, it bordered on complete innocence. Which, considering the scars and general aura of dirty old man, was an accomplishment, and likely not a lie.

Oh, _dear._

"Oh. Um, Flavor, you are aware that you're actually participating _in_ the speed dating? Right?"

That caused a lot of blinking, and if Tim weren't worried about the distance between Flavor's vodka shot and the candle, he'd have laughed at the poor man's expression.

Flavor set the highball glass down hard and leaned in tight, hissing. "This be a speed datin' for boyz, not a pre-show to go to da clubs? There ain't _no_ girls?"

Schooling his expression, Tim shook his head. "No women at all."

Flavor's eyes went wide. "And all them-" He waved his hands to encompass the room. "They all?"

Tim nodded.

Flavor leaned back in. "You?"

Tim nodded.

"And they t'inkin I.."

Tim leaned in and neatly rescued the vodka glass. It had been tipping in a rather worrying way. "I take it that you favor the fairer sex, Flavor?"

It was Flava's turn to nod. Violently.

"Mmm, well." Tim slid the glass next to his own. "There is only one rotation left. You can just mark that you don't want anyone to have your information. It's an easy fix."

"I... I been datin' _dudes_ all night?"

Tim shot a worried glance at Flavor and discreetly waved at Marcus, who slid up to the table with a ruthless efficiency that had Tim making a mental note to give him his business card later. "Don't worry, Flavor. We'll make this work."

*

_Final Bell_

"Hello, Jeff."

"Tim."

Tim sighed, laughing a little at himself. Really, he shouldn't be surprised. It was bound to happen. After all, it was a small world.

"You look good. But you always did with a good tan."

And he did. Lean and fit and so very far away. Yeah, there was swooping. And fireworks and a few other things, but they were tender and aching like an old scar. Distant.

"You were always the flatterer." It was strange to see that specific look of regret and peace on the other man's face. It had been six months since they'd last run into each other, and that had been a complete mess.

This didn't feel like that.

"I mean it." Slowly, he reached across the table and took Jeff's hand. He kept the contact light and was only a little sad at they way Jeff started. Still, he didn't pull away, and that was something. Tim made a point to keep Jeff's eye contact. "You look good, and it's nice to see you."

There must have been something in his expression that read as sincere, because Jeff eventually nodded and squeezed the hand back before letting go.

"You too, Tim." Breaking the moment, he gestured around the dining room. "Nice set up these guys have, huh?"

"It's been an interesting evening, I'll give you that." Tim leaned back in his chair, trying to take the conversation for what it was. Polite and informal. "Everyone's been very nice so far."

"I never really took this as your scene. It's nice to see you stretching your wings."

Tim shrugged, agreeing. "Heidi talked me into it."

Jeff laughed. "She was always a wily one, that girl. How are the kids?"

"Very well. She liked the birthday gift you sent for Henry. Leni was apparently beside herself with jealousy." Tim picked at his cuff, worrying the beginnings of a thread.

"She always was the mercenary of the lot. Really, though. Tim, this was good." The intense stare Jeff leveled at him was direct and more than a little attractive. Unsurprising, as that was one of the reasons Tim'd struck up that original conversation with him, so many years ago.

"I'm glad I came." He was surprised to find that he meant it.

Heidi'd been right. It was fine.

*

All in all, the night had not been a complete loss, Tim acknowledged, waving at young David as he disappeared through the revolving door. He'd met some very nice people, possibly gaining a few friends. Still, not quite what he'd hoped. He hadn't even turned in a notebook page.

Still, it had been good to see Jeff. Even though...

Buck up, Tim, he told himself. The course of true love never did run smooth. Even for the planners. And the night is young.

Taking a quick glance at his watch, he realized that it actually was. Only nine-thirty. Entirely too early to head home, especially with the post-theater crowd pushing for taxi's. Straightening his shoulders, he headed over to the hotel bar.

It was lovely. All dark wood and colored glass. Elegant and old-world in the nicest of ways. It was also fairly empty and in hardly any time at all, the bartender was sliding his drink across the bar's spotless surface.

"Pardon me," the voice was calm and soft at his elbow, startling but comforting in the same range. "I was wondering if you were all right."

Tim blinked and turned. The gentleman behind him was tall, familiar, and rather dashing. The last was surprising as he was wearing an absolutely horrific patterned shirt. It was blinding. 

"Fine, thank you. Oh, my."

"I'm hoping that was a positive, but from the eyebrows and incredulity, I'm guessing not." The smile was self-deprecating but easy.

"I'm sorry, but you seem very familiar. Have we met? I'm Tim Gunn." He offered a hand, his eyes desperately trying to roll away from the print.

"Victor Garber. And we have done, but a very long time ago at some party."

Tim blinked and tried to quickly flip through his mental file-o-fax, but came up blank. "Forgive me, I really don't remember."

"Oh, I'm not insulted. Parties do tend to run together after a while. I only remember because I'd admired the suit you were wearing. Very dapper."

Tim ducked his head in acceptance, relaxing into the conversation. "Well, my current self thanks you for the compliment. And refrains from questioning your taste."

"I appreciate your kindness. Although, I am in town for a speed-dating event tomorrow night, so any and all aspersions you wish to cast are probably accurate."

"Really?" Tim chuckled and leaned back into the bar. "I was here for a similar event tonight. Reality television stars. Yourself?"

"Television drama stars. Well, now I feel less silly." 

Victor's smile was easy and open; emotions that had been missing during Tim's earlier encounters in the speed dating room. He felt himself relaxing into the moment. Enough that he even allowed himself to notice how... _affecting_ said smile was becoming.

"I don't think there's anything silly about wanting to meet new people." Fighting a slight and rather bewildering blush, Tim gestured between them with his drink. "I've enjoyed meeting you, for example."

"You're right there." Victor shifted from the ball of one foot to the other and shot a glance at the bartender. When he turned back, there was a trace of anxiousness in his features and it made Tim stop trying to slide his eyes away from _that shirt_. "Would you like to go sit down and talk a little longer? Or do you have plans?"

His belly was swooping and there were fireworks, and they definitely weren't distant ones.

Blinking, Tim shook his head. "No, no plans. And yes, I think I would."

Not such a bad night after all.

-fin-

 


End file.
